"Now, ladies, ladies!" he shouted warningly. "Attention! Once again, please! The last figure once again!" The straggling groups scrambled hastily into something like order, and the little man continued--"One, two, three! Advance--retreat--left, right! Very well, indeed! Arms up a little more, Miss Jenkins--so! toes well pointed--curtsy--retire! One, two, three! swift slide to the left wing--forward! Round--take hands--all smile, please!" This general smile was apparently not quite satisfactory, for he repeated persuasively--"All smile, please! So! Round again--more quickly--now break the circle in a centre--enter Miss Vere--" he paused, growing still redder in the face, and demanded, "Where is Miss Vere?"
He was standing just beneath the painted bough of the sham tree, and in one second his hat was dexterously kicked off, and two heels met with a click round his neck.
"Here I am, pickaninny!" retorted Miss Vere holding him fast in this novel embrace, amid the laughter of the supers. "You're getting as blind as Tommy! Steady, steady now, donkey!--steady--woa!" And in a thrice she stood upright, one foot planted firmly on each of his shoulders.
"No weight, am I, darling?" she went on jeeringly, and with an inimitably derisive air she put up an eye-glass and surveyed the top of his head. "You want a wig, my dear--you do, indeed! Come with me to-morrow, and I'll buy you one to suit your complexion. Your wife won't know you!"
And with a vigorous jump she sprang down from her position, managing to give him a smart hit on the nose as she did so--and leaping to the centre of the stage, she posed herself to commence her dance--when Tommy came creeping back in his slow and dismal fashion, bearing something in a pewter pot.
"That's the ticket!" she cried as she perceived him. "I'm as dry as a whole desert! Give it here!" And she snatched the mug from the feeble hand of her messenger and began drinking eagerly.
The little red-faced man interposed. "Now, Miss Vi," he said, "is that brandy?"
"Rather so!" returned the Vere, with a knowing wink, "and a good many things besides. It's a mixture. The 'Vere's Own!' Ha, ha! Might be the name of a regiment!"
And she buried her mouth and nose again in the tankard.
"Look here," said the little man again. "Why not wait till after the dance? It's bad for you before."
"Oh, is it, indeed!" screamed Violet, raising her face, which became suddenly and violently flushed. "O good Lord! Are you a temperance preacher? Teach your granny! Bad for me? Say another word, and I'll box your ears for you! You braying jackass!--you snivelling idiot! Who makes the Brilliant draw? You or I? Tell me that, you staring old--"